


Strange Pack

by Handsomerogers (Theconsultingdetective)



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Aftercare, Biting, Breeding, Degradation, Knotting, M/M, Thrall Mat Sella, Vampire Damien Bloodmarch, Werebear Brian Harding, Werewolf Robert Small, dirty talking, dom Damien Bloodmarch, sub Mat Sella, trans Mat Sella
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 01:29:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18355820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theconsultingdetective/pseuds/Handsomerogers
Summary: There’s a raven outside Robert’s door.(After a long night with werewolf Robert and werebear Brian, Damien gives his thrall an unexpected gift in the guise of a punishment.)





	Strange Pack

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MetaAllu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MetaAllu/gifts).



> Mat is referred to mainly by afab language. Check the tags to see what you're in for--hope you enjoy!
> 
> (Gifted to MetaAllu for getting me obsessed with Brian/Robert, which will become more explicit in the 3rd installment of this baby.)

There’s a raven outside Robert’s door.

He’s big, and black, and he has an intelligence in his eyes that’s unusual, even for a corvid.

Robert sighs. “It’s Damien,” he tells Brian, who’s looking over some construction plans in the dining room. Brian sucks his teeth, wincing preemptively.

They both know what it carries, in the little glass tube strapped to its leg--an indictment about what the two of them got up to during the last full moon, with Damien’s handsome and once-promiscuous thrall, Mat. Robert and Brian, fully shifted, had stumbled across him during a late-night run, and they hadn’t been able to resist him.

He was an unusual human, laden down with pheromones for most creature or beast in Maple Bay (and there had been a good deal of discussion as to whether or not he could actually carry for them, too, but Damien had never allowed anyone close enough to find out.)

After an initial spar to figure out who’d get first knot, Mat had spent the night getting passed between the two of them and fucked and bred, not to mention groomed, eaten out, nuzzled, and brought “snacks,” in the form of dead rabbits and squirrels that Mat politely rejected. The night passed quickly, and messily, and in the morning, the three of them were found by Damien, who had scented out his thrall even under what he described as the “rank stench” of the two wereboys.

He’d thoroughly chastised Robert and Brian, and they’d exchanged apologies with Mat--Mat for being, in Damien’s words “dangerously tempting,” and Robert and Brian for being “feral brutes who forget their place”--Mat had gone with Damien to get hosed down, and Robert and Brian had gotten re-dressed and skulked home.

So when the raven shows up, about a month later, Robert thinks he knows what it’ll say. He steps outside onto his front stoop, and the raven squawks.

“A message from Master Damien,” it crows.

“As if it could be anyone else,” Robert says, taking the glass tube. “Thanks, Grip.”

He brings it inside, and sets it on the table next to the blueprints Brian’s poring over.

“Is that what Damien sent?”

Robert nods, pulling the little cork stopper off of the tube. A perfume wafts out, antique-smelling and floral, and Robert empties the pale parchment into his palm. He unties the ribbon around it, unrolls it, and reads aloud.

“Your presence is expected at the home of Master Damien Bloodmarch, to be attended upon by Mat Bloodmarch, this evening at six o’clock.”

“Expected,” Brian says after a second, with a low whistle.

“Expected,” Robert repeats. “Think we’ll get another dressing down?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised.” Brian taps the blueprints in thought, then checks his watch. It’s four thirty already, late for an invitation, especially from Dames. “Guess I’d better go dress.”

“Guess so,” Robert agrees, rubbing at the stubble on his jaw.

Maybe he should shave.

~*~

Six o’clock comes quickly, and Robert and Brian walk over together. The sun isn’t down yet--it won’t be for a few hours--and Robert hopes he’ll be able to get home before he shifts. It would be a shame to rip his best suit, which he figured he should wear to the home of a man as elegant as Damien.

He knows how he and Damien are supposed to feel about each other. Vamps and werewolves have been at odds for time immemorial, so it’s easy to assume that the two of them would always be at each others’ throats. The stereotype says that the very things that make each of them desirable to others--the magnetic energy in vampires that holds their thrall’s attention, the wild ruggedness and ability to provide of werewolves--is supposed to be repulsive to each other.

But there’s something in Damien that draws Robert to him. He’s smart, and handsome, and everything about him is so exquisite and fine, like perfect polished marble. He’s delicate but strong, in a way that Robert can’t understand but absolutely adores.

Basically, Robert’s head over heels for him.

They knock on the door, and it opens--it’s Mat, but he’s not dressed in his usual jeans and soft hoodie. He’s wearing almost nothing--his underwear, tight and sheer, are a formality, and his top half is bare naked, with a long, simple golden chain necklace hanging down his still-bitemarked chest. He looks exquisite, like an angel, or a fae, his long locs tied back with another gold chain.

“Come inside,” he says, smiling at them. “We’ve been waiting.”

“I thought we were on time,” Robert says, checking his watch. It says 6:00, exactly--he’s always prompt when it comes to Damien.

“We like to be ready,” Mat says, popping a little shrug. It makes his necklaces jingle and catch the light, and Robert’s eyes are drawn automatically down, until Damien calls to them from the dining room.

“Mat, my darling,” he calls. “Let the gentlemen in, please.”

Robert’s eyes snap up--he knows how possessive Damien can be, and how if he ever found out about the eyefucking Mat’s chest was getting, he’d probably have Robert’s tail for a jaunty stole.

(He’d probably look good in it, and that’s the worst part.)

“Yes, my lord,” Mat says, stepping aside, and letting the wereboys pass.

The house is grand and immaculate on the inside--Robert would expect no less. It feels like going back to the Victorian era, with its richness and its luxury, when Damien was first turned--that, Mat thinks, is why he keeps it that way.

“Good evening,” Damien greets, dressed in a lavish outfit, with a white, ruffled undershirt and an elegant burgundy waistcoat.

“Good evening,” Brian parrots.

Standing in the foyer, with Mat just behind them, Damien extends a hand, palm down, long, sculpted fingers relaxed and at ease.

Brian takes the hint--he’s watched Mat do this enough times that he knows he’s expected to lean in and kiss Damien’s large signet ring. He does, of course, because he’s trying to be a good guest, trying not to stay on Damien’s bad side for long.

He extends the same hand--the same honor--to Robert, who is practically salivating, and waits for him to lean in for the kiss. There’s a tense second, because Robert has an image to protect as stubborn and grumpy, and then he leans down, takes Damien’s hand in one of his own, and presses his lips to the ring.

“Would you like to retire to the living room, my lord?” Mat offers.

 

“I would, I think, my love,” Damien nods, with a flip of his hair. “Come, please.”

Brian and Robert share a look as they follow Damien into the opulent living room, taking their seats, Damien in a wingback chair with Mat sitting on a comfortable ottoman at his side and Robert and Brian on a loveseat.

“Would you like some tea?” Damien offers, crossing his long legs.

“Sure,” Robert says, “please.” Brian nods, too.

Mat raises his eyebrows.

“Already, my lord?” he asks, hushed.

“Already indeed,” Damien says, scratching his fingers along Mat’s bare back. “If you feel ready.”

Mat’s fervent nod makes Robert wonder what’s going to happen next.

“Could you go get it while I entertain our guests?”

 

Robert definitely does not say something stupid about Mat being the one who’s really entertaining, especially when he’s shirtless.

“Yes, my lord,” Mat says, out of the room into the kitchen in a flash.

“What’s he so excited for?” Brian asks gently, looking much more accessible than Robert in his soft blue sweater and slacks.

“The sun’s getting quite low, Mr. Harding,” Damien says instead. “It would be a shame indeed if you ripped up that lovely sweater.” He turns his improbable violet eyes on Robert. “Or you, Mr. Small, with that fine suit. That jacket looks well tailored.”

“Thanks,” Robert says, then, stupidly, “It was. Tailored. Taken in, actually.”

“I wouldn’t want anything to happen to it,” Damien says. “Perhaps you should divest yourselves of them--Mat will bring you robes with your tea.”

“Are we going to be here all night?” Brian asks.

Damien smiles, showing his two sets of sharp, curving fangs. “I do hope you will, Mr. Harding. And you, Mr. Small.” Mat returns with a tray of cups of golden, steaming tea, with two soft, warm-looking robes over his arm. “I recall a certain young gentleman enjoying your attentions very much, around this time last month, and since I do so love to pamper him…” He takes a tea from Mat’s tray and sips it, his face filling with the steam. “...I thought perhaps you could enjoy one another again, the three of you. Under my watchful supervision, of course.”

“Of course,” Brian repeats, still processing. “Tonight?”

“Yes,” Mat intervenes, bending at the knees a little to offer Brian and Robert their teas and robes.

“I believe we also discussed the possibility of you breeding my thrall,” Damien added, and both Robert and Brian perked up immediately. “It is, of course, completely up to him…”

Both of them look up at Mat immediately, literally on the edge of their seats.

“I want you to,” Mat agrees, setting the tray on the low wooden coffee table. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

Robert almost lunges out of his chair to scent him, watching the way his cheeks pink and his eyes lower, bashful for someone parading around mostly naked.

“So have I,” Brian agrees, hoping Damien will forgive him the implication.

“Well, if you three do indeed decide to go through with this, I expect you to take the next…” He draws a pocket watch from his waistcoat. “...half-hour to finish your tea and discuss your boundaries and desires for this evening’s festivities.”

Mat takes a seat by Damien’s side, and the vampire immediately slides his hand into his hair to scratch at his scalp with long, pointed nails.

“What’s in this?” Robert asks, setting his tea down on its delicate china saucer.

“For the two of you, something that will sustain you throughout the evening, and for our darling Mat, a compound that should improve fertility and relaxation, from the handsome witch next door, Matteo.”

Brian raises his eyebrows, looking at his cup of tea, already completely drained.

“And yours?”

“Darjeeling, pet,” Damien smiles, tipping his teacup up into his mouth so that only his eyes are visible. “I would encourage you to change your clothes now—sunset is nearly upon us.”

Robert indelicately drains his cup, then picks up the robe and asks Mat to show him to the bathroom.

“You may change here,” Damien says. It’s less of a request and more of an instruction. “It is nothing we have not seen before.”

It’s true, Robert figures, looking over at Mat, who is positively salivating as he sips his tea. “If you insist,” he says, taking his jacket off, then his shirt, and laying them on the back of the loveseat.

He’s somewhere between fit and soft, his muscles visible but not hard and defined like Craig’s. He isn’t as hairy as Brian, but not as smooth as Mat, either. He goes for his belt, his hands covered in little scars and scrapes and calluses, and gets his pants off, then reaches for the robe.

“No cheating, please, pet,” Damien says, his voice like the gentle admonishment of a schoolteacher.

Robert grunts, but assents. Everyone is looking at him, even Brian, as he gets his underwear off and slips on the robe.

“Much better,” Damien says. “Don’t you think, my sweet-blooded love?”

Mat’s melted against the side of the armchair, looking up at them with eager adoration. “Yes, my lord,” he all but drools.

“Are you excited?”

Brian pulls off his sweater and Mat says, “Yes, my lord.”

“Would you like to show the gentlemen how excited you are, lamb?”

“Yes, my lord,” Mat nods, standing up. He slips off his underwear and goes to stand where all three of them can see him, not far from his seat. Robert remembers the sight well, and Mat remembers how Robert had looked at him then, too, the same way he’s looking at him now, hungry.

“Go on,” Brian encourages quietly, and it makes Robert think of the way he would nudge his short nose against Mat’s cheek on that night, to get him to relax as the night wound down and the morning sun broke outside their little den.

Mat kneels, facing away from them, and bends at his hips, prostrating the top half of his body towards Damien, who smiles smugly.

“Good, my love,” Damien croons. “My darling boy.”

From their position, Robert and Brian can both see how ‘excited’ Mat is--his pussy is gleaming wet, and while they watch, a long drip of slick pours from him and spills onto the carpet.

Robert’s mouth goes dry, and Brian tenses--they both want to get their mouths right there, and everyone in the room knows it.

“Messy,” Damien says, clucking his tongue. “We’ll be cleaning that up later, won’t we?”

Mat holds in a whine that escapes when he speaks. “Yes, my lord,” he agrees, coming back to his feet and returning to his ottoman.

“What do we have to talk about?” Robert asks, wanting to speed things along. He’s getting fidgety, and it’s getting dark, and he wants to get all this out of the way before he can’t string thoughts other than “knot breed mate” together.

Damien laughs, watching Brian strip and pull his robe on, more hastily than before.

Their conversation goes quickly--three of them squirming, Damien sipping his tea and petting Mat’s head with gentle fingers.

They decide they’re each going to be able to knot Mat, as many times as they can, taking turns, while Damien watches and makes sure they’re all behaving. He says he’ll be able to stop Robert and Brian with a single word, as a failsafe, and that puts all three of them at ease.

When the conversation is over, and Damien’s satisfied, he rises, and says, “My darling, gentlemen, will you join me downstairs?”

“Sure,” Brian says, and he and Robert hurry behind Damien and Mat, who is still bare naked and none too subtly swaying his hips. They go down a set of stairs, winding and narrow, but before they get there, Robert smells a familiar scent. It takes him back to that night, the cool air, the wetness from the recent rain, the smell of the dirt and the trees.

When they see it, they understand why. The basement is carpeted with dirt, and grass, with a little den in one corner and a thicket of trees in the other. It looks like it goes on forever, easily mistakable for the world above, but they all know they’re safe from other prying eyes or passersby.

There’s plenty of space for a chase, or a spat between Robert and Brian for who goes first, and the den, much to Brian’s approval, looks big enough for all three of them with ease.

“It’s a glamour,” Damien says, “woven by Mary. I thought it would make you feel more at home.”

“Wow,” Robert says, wiggling his toes in the dirt. It’s soft, and it feels real underfoot.

“This is impressive,” Brian agrees, starting to roll his shoulders. They can’t see the moon any more--although there is manufactured moonlight--but they both know it’s a matter of moments before they shift.

“We’ll wait for you to be ready,” Damien says, pulling off his waistcoat and setting it on the stairs. He rolls up his ruffled shirt, too, and takes from the branch of a nearby tree a pair of long, black, soft gloves--made of leather, maybe, Robert thinks. He wants to touch them.

“Won’t have to wait long,” Brian says, looking at Mat. “We’ll be back soon.” He heads to the thicket of trees, and Robert follows him.

Damien makes his way over to the mound of the den, and takes a seat. “Mat, my darling,” he says, and even though his voice is soft Mat immediately looks his way, “you may wait anywhere you wish. I imagine you’ll have two brutes upon you in no time, flat.”

Mat nods and suppresses a whine, shifting from foot to foot. He hears grunts and low groans from the trees, and then two growls. Robert slinks through the trees first, wiry brown fur thick and greying around his muzzle, scenting the air. His ears twitch, the right one missing a chunk that he lost in a scrap when he was just a pup.

Mat’s breath catches when Robert snarls, baring white fangs--he remembers the feel of them around his neck so well, the way they clamped around his throat. Robert stalks towards him, head low, and Mat drops almost immediately to his knees.

He doesn’t hear Damien approach, but before he knows it, he’s behind him, watching them closely. “You smell like a whore,” he says plainly, and Mat squirms, watching Robert close in on him. “Look at him--he can smell it, too. Do you see how much he wants you? How much he wants to breed you?”

“Yes, my lord,” Mat nods. Robert’s almost on him now, scenting his neck and growling again. He circles him once, Damien circling in the opposite direction, and then, when Robert gets behind him, there are teeth on his neck, guiding him down to get his chest to the floor. He’s huge, two feet tall at his shoulders, and Mat can already feel the fat head of his cock prod at his pussy.

“What’s he doing to you, slut?” Damien prompts, standing far enough away that Robert doesn’t feel threatened.

Mat whimpers and squirms, and Robert bites down harder, forces his cheek to the dirt. “I can feel him against me,” he says, eyes closing. “I can feel his head against my pussy, he’s so thick--”

“Well, don’t get too comfortable,” Damien chuckles. “It looks like you have company.” Mat opens his eyes, and before he knows it, Robert’s been knocked off his back by a huge reddish-brown bear, barreling out of the trees. He’s less scruffy than Robert, his fur shining in the moonlight, growling and huffing as they square up against each other.

Robert finds his footing quickly, and once he does, the fight over Mat begins in earnest. Damien crouches beside him while they watch, the spectacle doing something to Mat that nothing else in the world can. He’s being fought over, objectified so thoroughly, considered by these two primal animals as just a mate to knot and breed and claim.

“Look at them fighting over you,” Damien murmurs to him, unclasping his necklace and pocketing it. He rubs the place on his neck where the teethmarks are, knowing there’ll be tenfold of them by the time the morning breaks. “Their breeding mate. Think about how full you’ll be, my darling, how round you’ll get with their pups and their cubs, how your tits will swell and become sore to feed your children.” The dirty talking doesn’t do much for Damien, but when he sees how Mat reacts, watches him squirm back on a non-existent cock, it feels worth it. “They’ll make you their bitch, won’t they?”

Mat nods, hardly having moved from the position Robert forced him into.

“Say it,” Damien says. “Tell me what they’ll make you.”

Mat whimpers again, watching Robert swipe at Brian, and Brian snap back with his jaws. They never hurt each other much, just some bruises and a few scrapes, but it always looks brutal and feral. “Their breeding bitch, my lord,” he says, just as Brian breaks away from the fight and barrels towards him.

He’s almost knocked back by his size and speed as Brian takes his place above him, huge and hulking, front paws up by his ears and back ones hemming in his feet. The two wereboys are evenly matched in size, but while Robert is quicker, Brian is stronger, which leaves the former no choice but to snarl and skulk while Brian gets his way.

He huffs in Mat’s ear, and Mat watches Damien straighten, adjust his glove, and step away. “Be good for them, my love,” he says, half teasing, Robert barking once at him as he passes. “We wouldn’t want another fight on our hands.”

Brian huffs into Mat’s ear, breath hot, scenting his neck, then moves off of him for a moment to nudge his wet nose against his pussy. He laps at him, and Mat moans--Brian’s still human enough to recognize the sound, so he goes in again, the taste of his wetness musky and perfect. But he doesn’t have time to waste, with Robert circling them like he is, impatient and ready for his chance.

Brian moves back up on top of him, mounting him, mouth moving to the back of his neck and expecting to find scruff to bite down on. He doesn’t find that, but he bites anyway, and ruts inelegantly against Mat’s body. Just like before, his cock nudges against him, and Mat grinds back, hips up. He isn’t as long as Robert, but he’s just as thick, and his knot, Mat recalls, is the largest of the two. He watches Robert pace and snarl, taken by surprise as Brian hits his mark, stretching him, filling him, so good it sears up his spine and sings in his blood. He moans, and Brian whuffs and pants in his ear, clearly pleased with himself.

He shoves his hips forward a few times, artlessly, until Mat can feel his knot start to build and build. The thought of that going inside him staggers him, blows his mind, but in a matter of moments, it does, and he whimpers again as it rocks against his g-spot.

“Good, my love,” Damien encourages quietly, sounding as if he’s right beside him when really he’s practically across the room. “Look at you take that knot, like a beautiful breeding slut. I’m sure your alphas would say the same, wouldn’t they? They’d tell you how tight you are, how perfect, how they can’t wait to see their children grow inside you, so that everyone knows who’s had the privilege of fucking you.”

“Yes,” Mat keens, and Damien forgives him the absence of his customary honorific given the...circumstances. The knot swells and swells, impossibly, locking them together and dragging perfectly against Mat’s g-spot every time Brian shifts. He grooms his hair, almost nonchalant, as the pressure in Mat’s body builds and builds.

When they’d talked, upstairs, Damien had given him a rare dispensation: he could come freely, whenever he wanted, as many times as he wanted, without permission, until the sun came up. He’d even requested that the herbs make him more sensitive, which, by all accounts, had worked. And Mat plans to take full advantage of that opportunity.

He grinds back on Brian’s knot, shameless, and Brian huffs in his ear as if in surprise. He’s never had anyone as hungry for it as Mat, not that he can remember--he’s perfect, eager as anything, and he’s fertile, too, from his scent. As he empties into Mat the first time, warm and deep, Mat comes, crying out and tensing up. From their side, Robert makes a noise almost like a jealous whine, shifting and scenting as he paced.

“That was fast,” Damien laughs. “You must enjoy this a great deal, hm? Being bred and mated by wild creatures like a cheap, common whore?”

“Yes, my lord,” Mat keens again, as the knot shrinks with every flood of come. He can feel it, inside of him, hot and slick as it pours into his cunt. “Thank you, my lord.”

Damien laughs again, the sound musical, but cruel, too. Mat has a feeling he’s going to make him regret his passions for the wereboys next door. “Don’t thank me,” he says, “thank the beast pumping you full of his come, instead.”

Mat giggles, and turns his head a little to look up at Brian. “Thank you,” he grins, and Brian chuffs and promptly drools on his face.

“The decorum and grace in you three never ceases to amaze,” Damien says, and Mat blushes and rolls his eyes, grateful Damien can’t see his face.

When the knot is finally empty, and Brian is satisfied with his breeding, he shuffles backwards and gives Mat’s pussy one last lick, but he doesn’t linger for long--Robert pounces on him, as soon as he’s gone, and knocks him out of the way.

“I hope you’re ready for more,” Damien says, giving Mat a carefully constructed out that won’t pull him out of his headspace.

“Yes, my lord,” Mat says, wiggling his ass in front of Robert’s face.

Robert nips it, right on the roundest part, and Mat freezes. He scents him, between his legs where come seeps out, and growls, pushing his tongue in without a second’s warning. Mat yelps, a sound that might seem more fitting coming out of Robert, and squirms as his tongue, hot and wet, pushes further and further inside.

Damien gasps, and says, almost astonished, “He’s making room for himself, my darling. Feel how he’s emptying you out, how he’s getting you ready for his knot. He doesn’t want anyone else’s scent on you, does he?”

Mat shakes his head, shivering as the tongue slides in and out, cleaning his cunt so thoroughly he feels almost raw inside.

“Wants you to be his bitch, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Mat whines, arching.

“Do you want that, slut?”

“Yes,” Mat nods. He doesn’t even have to be asked to say, “Want to be your bitch, please,” and Robert snarls like he understands.

He empties Mat out on his tongue, then bites down on his ass, as though to teach him a lesson about who he belongs to. Mat hisses from the feeling; he knows it’s going to bruise up in no time at all.

“Does it hurt, my darling?” Damien coos, faux-sympathetic and mocking. “Does it hurt when he bites you like that?”

Mat warbles his agreement and drops to his elbows, his hands and arms trembling too much to keep him upright.

“Perhaps next time we’ll put you in a breeding bench, hm?” Damien suggests. Mat shivers, both at the idea of a next time and at the promise of being rendered helpless by the bondage Damien is offering him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Mat nods as Robert drapes himself over him. He seems to like Mat’s new position—he sniffs at his locs and licks his cheek and his throat, and Mat finds himself extremely ticklish. He can feel Robert’s cock against him, the swell of his knot at the base, the raw heat of him as he growls and ruts against Mat’s ass.

He shifts a little, getting his teeth around Mat’s throat, Mat’s cheek pressed into the grass. He shoves his hips forwards once, missing, and then again, until he finally hits home, buried inside in just one thrust.

Robert is rougher than Brian was, growling and snarling as he fucks Mat. He’s already so sensitive from his first orgasm that his second comes quickly, before Robert’s even knotted him, just from being full, and from the mere idea of being bred.

It takes Robert longer to knot him, but not by much, and when he does, he howls, proud and possessive. He fills Mat up, too, until he’s heavy with it, mixing inside his body with what little of Brian Robert couldn’t clean out. He comes again, grinding back subconsciously on Robert’s knot, and Mat can feel the smugness coming off of him at the idea that he got his mate off twice.

Robert grooms him, too, or tries to, at least, licking at his shoulders and face carefully and adoringly as his knot goes down. When he’s finished, and Mat is full and aching, he climbs off and coaxes Mat towards the den. Brian, oddly, doesn’t try for another round—not yet, at least.

“Are you tired?” Damien coos to all three of them, as Mat hobbles over, sore and flanked by the two wereboys that made him that way.

“Mm,” Mat agrees. Damien comes to him, removing his gloves and tucking them in his pocket, and kisses him, much to Robert’s disapproval (and jealousy, frankly, in equal parts for and of Mat.)

“You look a mess,” Damien laughs. “It would be a fool’s errand to clean you up now, though, not when these two are far from through with you.”

Mat grins. “I know,” he says. “But I like it.”

Brian whuffs, calling for Mat, and Mat goes to them, smiling and rubbing Brian’s back affectionately. The three of them climb inside the small cave for a rest, mostly to benefit Mat—it’s a marathon, not a sprint.

Brian situates himself behind Mat’s back, letting Mat curl up against his warm fur, and Robert nudges him to lay on his chest, so as much of their come that can stay in will. He settles down over Mat’s body, like a blanket, protective of their strange pack and with one eye on the cave entrance.

“Won’t you join us, my lord?” Mat calls.

“Oh, I mustn’t,” Damien dismisses. “I don’t think your pack would appreciate it.”

Mat shrugs. “They’ll get used to it,” he says. “Please? For me?”

Damien sighs. Mat does smell sweet, and they all look so comfortable together...even Robert seems sedate…

“My clothes will be covered in fur,” he gripes, even as he approaches.

“I’ll lint roll them for you,” Mat laughs.

As Damien gets closer, Robert gives a warning growl, but his ears look relaxed, and he hasn’t even bothered to get up. Damien takes the risk of offering his hand to Robert, who sniffs him and then, strangely, shifts, as if to make space for him to lay with them.

Damien takes the hint, resting his head on Robert’s side. He is quite warm...and his fur is wiry, certainly, but softer than it looks...Robert sniffs his hair, wet nose against his scalp, and then sets his head back on his paws and squints, happy.

Brian and Mat are already asleep, and while Damien has no intention of doing the same, he finds himself dozing, too, leaving Robert to watch over them until they each get restless again.


End file.
